


lacuna; or, in which hera has a lover

by fleurdalecour



Category: Greek and Roman Mythology
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 14:40:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16065245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurdalecour/pseuds/fleurdalecour
Summary: i misread hero and leander and here we are





	lacuna; or, in which hera has a lover

Artificial wind blew through the gauzy curtains around the bed gently like a lover’s caress. The candlelight flickered and illuminated the scene with a soft glow. The air smelled like lilies and vanilla and the distant memory of a day you don’t quite remember.

The bed was occupied by two people who may or may not have been in love. Love was such a fickle thing she had no control over, really. It wasn’t in her sphere of control like it should be. It was really quite ironic; marital love was the thing she represented and it was also what she could never hold onto.

Aphrodite had it easy, she realized. It wasn’t difficult at all to fall in love. You fell in love like you breathed and all it needs to happen is a push. But then you’re down and vulnerable and entirely at the mercy of the one you’ve fallen for. Maybe they fell too and you commiserate over your shared bruises and patch each other up or maybe the other person is still standing and they help you stand and brush you off but then leave you. Or maybe you fell and the one meant to hold you in his arms and tell you it was alright didn’t even notice that you were on the floor waiting for him.

Relatively speaking, it wasn’t her job to understand the inner workings of love, and thus was doomed to fall again and again for whomever the capricious wind blew her towards. She had thought she had faced every sort of rejection there was, and she had. But she had never experienced the feeling of knowing the person you fell for fell harder and would never, ever leave you.

A hand was tracing its way up an arm that it didn’t belong to, leaving its cells attached but dying next to the foreign ones. With the amount of time spent in this bed, if an observer was blind, or had lost tactile feeling, and was only able to know who was whom by what was written in those cells, his conclusion would wind up inconclusive. They had spent so much time together, they might have merged into one being like humans were meant to be.

But she was not human, much as she might wish to be. Humans were able to love without constraint, a gift given by a goddess who owed her no favors. If she were human maybe her story wouldn’t be a perpetual tragedy. Perhaps she wouldn’t be branded insane and catty. But also maybe not; she might not be human but she was still a woman.  _ Women love too easily _ , they say,  _ They expect too much and it is their own fault when they end up disappointed. _

Maybe is the worst word, she decides. The best word? Not love, as one who thinks they know everything might say. Pleasure, it could be. Fealty, also. Knowledge, definitely. She treasures the knowledge that the man underneath her in this bed loves her so much that he is determined to give her pleasure, sworn to it almost. He had spoken to her in a whisper some time ago, though she couldn’t remember when since the moments in this bed had blurred together for her, a soft pink glow that warmed her heart when the world was desperately trying to freeze her.

He had said,  _ I promise, _ and she’d thought promise was almost as bad as maybe: a word spoken to convince but was almost always a lie; almost was another horrible word.  _ I promise to cherish you, _ punctuated with a kiss somewhere that wasn’t her mouth,  _ I promise to love you like he doesn’t but like you deserve. _ What did she deserve? Probably not a husband who didn’t love her. But again that wasn’t under her purview. As powerful as humans think she is, she still cannot outrun or even choose her own fate. Fate would mock her.  _ Who are you to ask for more than you are given? Queen that you are doesn’t entitle you more happiness. Don’t you know happiness is a commodity and you are the poorest of the poor? _

But she should thank Fate for allowing her this one transgression, she thinks as she curves her hand against his jaw and pulls him towards her firmly. Fate did give her these few moments of happiness and pleasure that she had never known. Maybe love. Maybe.

What she wouldn’t give to be in Aphrodite’s place; to be able to ensure love and happiness for others and for herself. Though now she is somewhat closer to being like her: a married woman with a lover that is not her husband. An action she had initially scorned she now understood. She placed a kiss on his lips and relaxed her body so she could fit into his side more perfectly.

His hands roamed her body like a sculptor creating a masterpiece. So far he had kept his promise. His touch was reverent and gentle, like she might break or disappear if he displeased her. Somewhere in the back of her mind a thought voiced itself,  _ he could never displease her, _ and she shoved that thought down, chastising that part of her mind for even thinking it. Much as she loved– no, coveted– these moments, she knew her story would always be a tragedy.

She let him enter her again and he placed her on her back so he could drink in her face again. His eyes raked over the plains of her body like he knew it would be the last time.  _ You have been absent too long _ , that same part of her mind reminded her as he moved in a way that made a sound fall out of her throat without her permission. She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him close like they were before. Closer still, so that she could remember the pressure of his body against hers while he made her feel things she never had and never would again. Thunder rumbled and the sky split with a glaring white light as they both released the building pressure in their abdomens.

Her husband was here.


End file.
